And so like boiling vinegar the crackling seas rose into the crystal heavens and thousands died enlightened, aged monks crying chants in proto-Hebrew, young mothers on melting mountaintops recalling their wildest childhoods in moments of orgiastic abandonment, all well pleased, for verily t'was Christmas morning in the last age of fond hearts, and all succumbed well who did succumb in the grace of the scolded wormlet, the orange-headed latter-day god, forgiving of trespasses, condemning of presumptions, called forward into destructive being by the hopeful nightmares of the final generation, moribund in their corruption, and crowned in fire and toothpaste was He the inheritor of a purified earth in that roseate dawn of the first morning of the age of post-humankind: amen!

Sacriligeous seahorses ripping the floorboards.. myopic monkeys in the sewer pipes.. my roof being eaten by enigmatic earwigs and my air conditioning being urinated upon by hyperactive hyenas.. I'm a sad, sad antelope.